toast popped up and Neil set the slices on a plate, spread peanut butter over them. “You used to be good at going after what you wanted.”
She had no idea what he meant by that. There was a time back when she was young and naive and so completely, helplessly, foolishly in love with him that she knew his thoughts better than he did.
Now she wanted him to keep those thoughts, and those searching looks, to himself.
“I still go after what I want,” she assured him as she heard Bree coming down the hall. “I just have more patience now.”
Bree appeared in the doorway, looking both relieved and wary to find her father still there. She had on dark blue sweats and a white T-shirt with a huge sparkly red heart on the front. Her hair was combed back and red stones twinkled in her ears. Maddie smiled. Her kid loved bling.
And she loved her kid. So much more than she’d ever expected.
Emotion swamped her, had her feeling as if the walls were closing in on her. “Perfect timing,” she said, her voice high and overly bright. “Your breakfast is almost ready. And I’m late for work.” She plucked a piece of toast out of Neil’s hand. “I’ll call Pops and tell him you’ll drop Bree off later this afternoon. Lock up when you leave.”
She kissed the top of Bree’s head, grabbed her keys and phone and went out through the back door. It wasn’t until she was on the porch that she let her faux cheerful expression slide away.
You used to be good at going after what you wanted.
True. So very, very true.
Back then, if she wanted something, she went out and got it, no holds barred and damn the consequences.
Then she’d gone after Neil.
And those consequences were still coming back to bite her in the ass.
* * *
SHE WAS DYING.
Bree squinted against the sun as she ran down the sidewalk. Her lungs burned. Her legs hurt. Each slapping step jarred her knees, made her body shake. She wanted to stop. Wished like mad she still had on the roomy sweatpants that hid her body. But no, her dad had insisted she’d be too hot, that she needed to change into shorts.
The shorts that showed everyone how fat her legs were. They rode up, giving her a massive wedgie, leaving nothing between the skin of her thighs as they rubbed together.
“Doing okay?” her dad asked from beside her.
He wasn’t even breathing hard! And his steps were smooth and easy, as if he could do this all day. As though he enjoyed sweating and running until it felt as if his legs could just fall off.
“Fine,” she gasped.
But she wasn’t. Shouldn’t he notice and...well...do something? Her mom would. Her mom would know Bree was lying, that she needed to stop. To rest, just for a few minutes.
Her dad jogged faster.
Bree wanted to cry.
She wouldn’t. Not over him. Not anymore. She quickened her pace to match his. He probably ran ten miles a day, practiced hockey for eight hours then lifted weights.
The boys in her class loved to tell her how awesome her dad was. How cool. They knew everything about him. His favorite workout, what he liked to eat to keep in shape and his stats as a player—including how many minutes he was on the ice and how often he got put into the penalty box.
They thought they could be like him. A famous hockey player. They all loved when he came to town.
She wheezed in a burning breath. She liked it when he stayed away.
Oh, when she was little, she used to dream of him coming back to Shady Grove, of being with him every day. She imagined they’d do all those things that dads and daughters did together, like...like...
Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what sort of things they’d do. Only that her dad would be here for her.
Except he never was. So she stopped dreaming about it. Stopped wishing for him.
At the corner, he jogged in place as they waited for a car to go by. Bree stopped and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. It was wet with sweat. Gross.
“What time is soccer practice?” he asked.
“Ten,” she managed to respond, having forgotten all about it. She’d never survive practice, not after this. She wondered if she could use the upset-stomach bit again.
“We’ll be back in plenty of time.” He gestured ahead. “We’ll circle that second block, then head back.”